


One Day (One Hour)

by skittykitty



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Manipulative Schlatt, Murder, Schlatt is an alcoholic, Time Loop, Time Travel, he dies then enters the loop, schlatt is the worst person to have put in a timeloop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: Schlatt dies, surrounded by enemies and traitors.Schlatt lives, woken to the sound of Wilbur’s voice— to the sight of his enemy smiling on a podium.Or:Schlatt enters a time loop, set around his first day in office.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	One Day (One Hour)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omgplsletmehaveusername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omgplsletmehaveusername/gifts).



> Just finished this before I start working on the next part of New Beginnings!! Hope you guys enjoy!!
> 
> Also!!! The title is inspired by the English translation of Life Letters by Never Get Used To People!

He knew, technically speaking, that there were dozens of people surrounding him.  _ He knew that.  _ Through the alcohol,— through everything he had put his body through the last few days— he could see Fundy.

In the corner of his eye, a familiar beanie stood in the midst of his enemies.

Schlatt screamed at Fundy. It was so much easier to be angry with Wilbur’s son. It was easier to spew poison and vitriol at people he never truly knew.

Quackity stayed silent.

“I,” he laughed. The stink of alcohol steeped through the broken van. Schlatt saw Fundy’s nose wrinkle at the smell. “I guess traitors really  _ do  _ run in the family, huh?”

Fundy looked at him— something terrible behind his eyes. Hate, regret, desperation.

A familiar figure pushed his way between the crowd.  _ “Schlatt.”  _ His vice president sighed. “You could’ve had it all.”

He was right— of course, he was. But it was too late now— back then he’d had a chance. He’d had Tubbo, stuck with him— had Quackity’s smiles, had Fundy’s support.

Schlatt’s grip on his bottle tightened as he lunged at his fiancé. “You  _ left!”  _ He screamed, the bottle shattering against Quackity’s shield. A whisper of grief tightened around his throat, the anguish in his heart— everything Quackity had done.

(Everything he had pushed him towards.)

“Your biggest mistake,” Quackity spat as if he were scum under his boot.  _ As if he were nothing.  _ “Your biggest mistake was pushing me away.”

Schlatt grinned, something terrible and lovely in his eyes.  _ He’s finally moved on. _

_ Good. _

(There was no one left to  _ care.) _

He coughed. It started slowly,— or so it seemed in the moment— a slow build-up to a gasp. To the realization,  _ I can’t breathe. _

To looking up at Quackity’s devastated face.

“Schlatt—”

His vision wavered, his fiancé’s figure going in and out of focus. Schlatt gasped, desperately grasping at his shirt. 

“Does— does anyone smell toast?”

He fell to the ground with a dull  _ thud. _

* * *

The wind snapped past his horns as he fell, collapsing onto a wooden floor. The planks dug into his back, reminding him  _ you’re alive.  _

Schlatt gasped, staring up at a bright blue sky, free of clouds. A beautiful day.

“Schlatt?!” Quackity screamed— the  _ traitor  _ tried to pull him up to his feet, as Schlatt pulled them back down. “Schlatt, are you okay?”

His eyes— once so filled with malice and regrets, now filled with nothing but hope.

“Schlatt?” Wilbur called out, standing in front of a podium. “Are you alright?” Wilbur was holding an envelope in his hands. He was smiling, confident in his victory. 

He nodded, the shock numbing…  _ everything.  _

“Okay,” Wilbur began again. “The votes are in—”

Quackity nudged him, concern palpable in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, looking away from the traitor beside him. Wilbur continued talking, smiling as he announced POG2020’s victory.

The satisfaction of watching that smile drop never got old.

“SCHLATT2020… has won by one percent of the vote.”

Quackity cheered beside him,— he had stayed on the ground beside him, what an idiot— smiling as if he had won the lottery. His eyes shone with euphoria, the kind he hadn’t seen in…  _ forever. _

“Schlatt,” he laughed. “Go up there. Make your speech.”

He almost smiled, then. Staring at this old version of his fiancé— he hoped. 

Schlatt stepped onto the podium with hope in his soul. He smiled, thinking  _ maybe this will fix everything.  _

“As the new president of L’Manberg… the  _ emperor  _ of L’Manberg! I declare that Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are to be executed!”

He watched the audience scream, saw Wilbur begin to run, Tommy behind him. Punz and Ponk began to shoot at them.

Quackity pulled him by the shoulder. “What the fuck have you done!?” There was a raw sort of grief in his eyes, all previous happiness scraped away. 

Schlatt laughed, something breaking inside him at the sound.

* * *

“Let’s go drinking together.” He could almost see his fiancé— the half-forgotten memory of  _ marry me—  _ and desperately  _ wanted.  _ Wanted some semblance of reality— wanted the real Quackity back.

Quackity stared at him, disgust in his eyes. “No. You… you fucked up, Schlatt. Those two don’t deserve to  _ die—” _

His jaw clenched, emotions an avalanche in his heart.  _ I need you.  _ “I can explain  _ everything—  _ just come with me.” Quackity was supposed to be constant— someone who would always be below him. Someone who would never change. “Please, come with me.”

He sighed, moving to stand beside him. “Fine,” Quackity muttered the word as if it was poison against his lips. Where once he had talked incessantly about how they would change the nation moving forward, now they walked in silence. 

_ Do I tell him?  _ he wondered.  _ Or do I try to get things back to normal? _

“What’s your explanation, then?” Quackity stared at him, watching the light shine off of his horns. “What’s your magical end-all get-out-of-jail-free card?”

Watching Quackity refuse to pace in his anger, seeing the hate build up in his eyes.  _ I’ve time traveled,  _ he should say.  _ Tommy and Wilbur will ruin this nation.  _ Schlatt smiled, something between cruelty and adoration in his eyes. 

“I love you, Quackity.”

His fiancé flinched at the confession,— something he had never said before, something that would have meant  _ so much  _ once upon a time— and sighed. “Stop taunting me, I get it.”

Quackity walked away with his hands in fists. “You’re the president, and I’m just a nobody.”

Schlatt stood alone, and  _ wasn’t that familiar? _

Turning, he grabbed a bottle off the wall. This would be so much easier if he was drunk.

* * *

In the end, he wound up drinking the night away. At the stroke of midnight, he opened his eyes to see Wilbur standing on that podium.

So.

He was back. Back to Quackity’s excited smile, to George standing far behind them with a calm look on his face. 

To the sight of Wilbur’s hope failing upon the realization of their loss.

To standing upon that very podium and commanding  _ kill them  _ over and over, watching the scenarios go the same each time. And why shouldn’t he kill them?! They would go against him— turn Quackity and Fundy against him. At least with them gone, he could find some way to win them back.

(He never found a way to get Quackity to propose on his own.)

On his, maybe, fourth loop, he went back to normalcy. “Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are exiled from L’Manberg!” 

It was fun, getting to see Quackity propose, to go on a hastily-made date with him. To see his fiancé laugh and joke like he hadn’t in months.

To see it all disappear at midnight. God, this was some Cinderella shit, wasn’t it?

Eventually, he got tired of that, too. 

“That was easy,” he murmured with grace. He had yet to forget which words would produce the right reaction. “Well, we should begin with a bang, shouldn’t we?” 

Schlatt stared at Wilbur and Tommy, sitting in the crowd. Tommy still looked spited, like he would execute a coup against him. He smiled bitterly, knowing it wouldn’t matter.

“In three days, the first festival of L’Manburg will begin!” He grinned, thinking of helping Quackity set up for the event. Even happiness was getting harder to scrounge up with every loop.

Cheers resonated through Manberg. 

Life was good.

As the crowd was dismissed, he turned towards his vice president. 

“Today was a good start!” Quackity walked around the podium, working off the excitement of  _ beating Wilbur.  _ “What do you think we should do for the festival?”

_ A little boy decorating, his smiles hiding a dangerous secret. A fistfight with Fundy. “You know what happens to traitors.” _

Schlatt smiled, something soft reserved only for him. “Something small,” he murmured. “Something fun.”

“Oh!” Quackity started walking away as he struggled to keep pace. “Why don’t we make some fun games? I could get Fundy to make some,” Quackity paced around him, hands moving as he talked. “We could maybe get Eret to help build!”

Schlatt chuckled at the other’s energy. “Sure, go ahead,” he gave the go-ahead, forgetting for a moment of all he was working towards. “Meet me for celebratory drinks after?”

“Of course!”

* * *

At sunset, Quackity showed up. His day would be over soon, this happy universe over and done with. Schlatt grabbed a bottle off the wall, pretending it was his first.

(Did the thousands of drinks he’d had in other universes count?)

“How’s…” Schlatt muttered, pausing to sip at the drink. “How’s the festival construction going?”

Quackity smiled, going off on a tangent about the construction. Something about being able to recruit Sam for the job, and him making it unnecessarily complicated. He smiled at his fiancé’s excitement.

Well.

They weren’t fiancé’s, were they?

_ I’ll change that soon,  _ he thought, laughing at some joke Quackity had made. As he smiled, the box in his pocket became infinitely heavier. 

“Quackity?”

He went down to one knee, horns glinting off of the light. Eyes light with the memory of laughter. “Will you marry me?” Quackity’s hands were still as he stared in shock.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated. In his heart, he was beginning to regret this.  _ Just hit midnight already. _

“I…” Quackity stared at him. “Yes.”

Schlatt smiled, something inside him whispering  _ I wish you hated me. _

And didn’t he? Didn't he miss the new Quackity— the one who had finally grown a spine and left him— didn't that Quackity deserve his love more than this one? 

His  _ real  _ fiancé. 

Looking at the visage of his vice president, he pondered the future. There were a few hours left here.

A few hours until a new start.

_ Maybe I should just kill them all in the next loop. _

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on my [tumblr](https://skitter-kitteruwu.tumblr.com/) where you can pester me to finish half-thought out ideas and scream to me about fics!!
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